


Ramuh's Judgment

by Aij_writes, jimmythejiver



Series: Made To Serve (Juice Bar AU) [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bravely Default References, Developing Ignis's Family, Dragoons as a Race, Flower Language, M/M, Mafia AU, Major Worldbuilding on top of Canon, No Royal Family, Not for Prompto Stans, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Smoking, Summer Jobs, Veterans, Will They Won't They Throughout, fantasy in a modern setting, hanakotoba
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29431122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aij_writes/pseuds/Aij_writes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimmythejiver/pseuds/jimmythejiver
Summary: Gladio's thirsty.Ignis's got the juice.So why is the city's most powerful family, the gods' destiny, Cor Leonis, and annoying little brothers doing everything they can to keep these two totally compatible strangers from getting their acts together?And while they're both incredibly strange, maybe this isn't their first meeting.This is a collaborative fic we've been writing for about two years (and counting).
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Series: Made To Serve (Juice Bar AU) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2161920
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

Ignis flipped the page on his magazine, pushing his glasses up absentmindedly. No one ever came to a juice bar in the time between the click over of the new day and the bars letting out. He had very little concern on the latter on a Wednesday night. He usually had work of his own he saw to--the advantages of a job that got this dead--but he had been running late and left his bag at home. Usually an organized man, he was still frustrated with himself hours later. He flipped the page angrily. He wasn’t taking anything in while staring at the pages of the months-old fashion pages. But it beat the local paper he’d already been through. Maybe he’d break down and do morning’s prep work.

Gladiolus had woken up after oversleeping through the evening. Showered, groomed, and dressed for a night out of strolling, he walked a few blocks from his apartment. He was thirsty, a little hungry, and passed many closed joints until he saw the bright lit logo of The Juice Bar; clearly a juice bar with some sandwich and salad options. He pushed the door open and headed up to the empty cash register. Gazing at the menu above, he decided his order, and rang the bell on the counter.

Ignis looked up from the other far end of the bar, staring at the man in complete disbelief. Sure, he wasn’t exactly looking dignified, or as dignified as a cash register jockey ever could, but was he expected to stand in front of the register all smiles for any rando that might stumble in? He was behind the counter, so what more did the brutish man want? To put on the apron and hat? He cleared his throat. “Yes, go ahead. I saw you come in.”

Gladio looked down from the menu and did a double take at the man behind the counter. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there, my man. I just woke up and was thirsting for your juice.” Did he just say that? Fucking awful. He could salvage this. He gave the cashier a roguish smile.

Ignis raised his eyebrows, then looked back down as if the magazine was the whole point of the night. “Mhm, and we carry 21 kinds that can be combined in predetermined or many custom ways. Opening up your options to truly infinite ways,” he said, reciting directly from the handbook’s guide for customer interactions. Defaulting to overly eager wage slave was his favorite way to deal with drunk idiots that’d been kicked out of clubs early. “Please make a selection or ask me for my favorites. I can whip up a sample if you want to try something new.” He said everything brightly enough, but with just enough flatness to his voice and complete disinterest in body language to let the man know he was wasting his already unclaimed time.

Gladio looked at the cashier. _Is he for real?_ Gladio scoffed internally before reconsidering the overly cheery, robotic tone. He had been there before as a cup noodles salesman in the past. Perhaps he could liven up the proceedings, rather than take his strawberry smoothie and be on his way. “Hmm...21 flavors for truly infinite ways, eh? How many per combination? Two...three? As I’m the adventurous type, how many flavors would you propose until the juice gets all icky?”

Ignis knew there was an actual standard, an actual answer, and a formatted response he could easily spout off. He also knew people took offense, depending on their terrible tastes, even of the canned delivery. He shook his head, finally standing up fully. “Sir, I’m not too fussed with...with _icky_ , as I am a coffee drinker and my taste buds don’t exactly get _excited_ , as the sign begs yours to do _for nature’s sugar_. In a twenty-ounce cup, I can get an ounce of almost every flavor in if you don’t want any of our vitality boosters. You want something good? Order off menu and ask for a substitution if you don’t like something. You want to get a cheap thrill from trying to be interesting with your order, get in line. I have a regular who gets apple and orange because he thinks he’s being clever. One particularly manic girl enjoys carrot, blueberry, and lemon. I don’t know how you’d define _icky_ , but I am paid not to make faces at weird combinations.” In all that time, Ignis had begun to mix something. He slid it down the bar to Gladiolus. “You seem like a peaches and cream with a bit of sours. The raspberry whip cream is gratis.”

Gladio looked at the cup with curious interest. He lifted it up to his lips. “Bottoms up.” He gulped it down quickly, anticipating the worst. All kinds of punishment games ran through his head before he took the bait. He had had many terrible concoctions at tasting parties, what’s one more, right? He slammed the cup down and made a slight puckered face as the flavor stung his throat, then soothed with its sweetness. He swallowed then sighed in satisfaction. “That is something else. You got a knack for juice making. Tell you what, I’ll take another. Take that one home.” Gladio fished out his wallet to pay. “Maybe be your taste-tester in the future.” He winked at Ignis.

Ignis hated the flirts. He dunked his eyes, a slight tremble as he adjusted his glasses. He hated that he had to work alone when it was only the unsavory types out and about. He hated his worth being summed up as being good at his job. The compliments almost hurt more than the in-your-face belligerent let-me-talk-to-the-manager types. Just drink it and leave. He didn’t answer him, mixing up another and starting to ring him up. “I grow the fruit and hand press it myself,” he said dryly. “I am truly a one-man juicing machine.” He raised his head. “Sandwich for the road?” He wasn’t so bored with the magazine that he could call _doing his job_ a good distraction, but what else did he really have to do? “Or are you not hungry, big guy?” Why...did...he call him _that_? Ignis rubbed his eyes under his glasses to hide his embarrassment. “Night full of clubbing on an empty stomach needs something other than liquid calories.”

Gladio registered the initial sarcasm clear as day, though that awkward flirting, _or am I delusional?_ made him change track. They were two men alone, late in the night. The cashier didn’t know if he would pull something. Perhaps he ought to cool it and take the sandwich and go. He wasn’t hungry, nor had any intention of clubbing with the headache coming on from oversleeping, but his new associate need not know that. He could play as a careless douche and walk away from this, or he could leave room to come here in the future with it being the closest place open at this time of night for his walks at odd hours. Plus, the cashier was amusing, for being standoffish.

Gladio opted for a mixed signal. “I’ll take the BLT to go for later. Perhaps the bread will do me good after a hangover.” Gladio had not been convinced by his own white lie, but it was an out, and the cashier could think whatever he wanted with his presumptions. “See you around, you one-man juicing machine, you.” Gladio could smack himself right now. Turning phrases was one thing, complimenting people another. Especially when it had potential to make a hostile environment. Gladio gave him another look-over. He could call him _spectacle_ for his specs, _bugzapper_ for his sticking straight up hair, or _pouty_ for his full lips, and all would be on Prompto’s level of lameness. _How to salvage this?_

For all the effort that went into the juice, all the sandwiches were afterthoughts. It wasn’t required to actually cook anything. Ignis went to the back, coming back with the microwaved bacon sandwich wrapped and ready. He gave him the total and accepted payment without comment. He let out a little sigh, though it was hard to place the sentiment behind it. Ignis gazed up at Gladiolus. “Next time,” he started, only to pause. He fumbled with the gloves he was wearing. “I’ll make you the only thing you can taste the watermelon in,” he said clearly, realizing he was basically telling him he had noticed him. “If you ask,” he said, looking away. “Takes awhile to become a regular.”

After putting his wallet away, Gladio slipped the wrapped sandwich in the other pocket of his coat and took his drink in hand. He realized the whole time they were standoffish, he had not taken in his cashier, or even read his nametag: _Ignis_. Taking in Ignis’s ease, Gladio felt relief. He need not have to pass this place in his nightly walks if Ignis was indeed teasing him with his invitation. “I’ll have to take you up on that watermelon, Iggy,” Gladio said, more confident. “The names Gladiolus, close friends shorten it to Gladio.”

Ignis frowned at the overly familiar tone in giving him a nickname. He waved his hand, dismissing him. “If I wanted to know your name, I’d have paid attention to your debit card.” He went back to his magazine, to show how little he cared about the proceedings.

After the place emptied, though, Ignis sighed, slipping his glasses off and rubbing his eyes. It was another few hours before he’d get off work.

* * *

> Ramuh's Judgment
> 
> 1 cup sours  
> 1 cup peach juice  
> 1/2 cup cream (plant)  
> Ice  
> Raspberry Whipped Cream  
> Sprinkle of poprocks  
> Mix drink over ice, stir, top with whip cream and garnish


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going to update for five chapters straight, then slow down to about once a week.

A few nights later, Ignis was sprawled out on one of the couches provided for customers, surrounded by folders and textbooks. He glanced up as the door opened. “Won’t be a moment, please,” he called, sighing and trying to put a paperclip where he was. He stood up, heading over to the sink on the side to wash his hands. He quickly slipped leather gloves back on. “I don’t get a lot of customers on my shift. Hope you’re not from headquarters.” Of course, there was no headquarters. His boss was asleep in the apartment above him.

Lack of customers or not, Ignis was a busy man and didn’t immediately remember the other night. He’d actually had his coffee this time, though, so he smiled. “Our special today is the Fresca-rita, which I don’t actually recommend. It’s a thin, virgin Bloody Mary, basically. Ever had gazpacho? It’s like that, but somehow still sweet. The Zesty Veggie In Your Belly is much more palatable.”

Gladio had gone back to The Juice Bar. He saw Ignis, the cashier, sprawled out on the customer couches, working on what was probably schoolwork. He suddenly felt too eager. Was he? He did not know what to think of this Ignis guy. He was cute, sure, but he wasn’t interested in him as more than associates, if at all. He had made that clear, though there was that shred of hope when he eased up on him the other night.

After Ignis had got up from his work and got to business, he had given him the spiel on the Fresca-rita and the Zesty Veggie In Your Belly. Neither sounded good, but Gladio could use more vegetables. Maybe not as much as Noctis, but he usually ate a steady diet of meat and poor man’s noodles.

Gladio looked at Ignis. “Thanks for the warning. I think I’ll avoid the special,” he chuckled. “My mother was more a gazpacho fan than I. Father likes split-pea soup. Perhaps if you don’t already have that on tap, you could put in a request to make something for the one guy in the world who likes that. Get a customer out of my old man, yeah.” Why was he babbling? “Well anyway, that Zesty Veggie, I could try that.”

“You could,” Ignis agreed, nodding slowly. “Or you could get literally anything else on the menu and it’d be better. Unless you’re a veggie man,” he offered. “Even then, I’d still suggest some kind of fruit to liven it up.” Honestly, the man looked like a protein priority kind of man. “We have mix-ins, too, for vitality and such. Are you heading back from the gym?” he asked, eyeing the man’s casual clothes. Not that it was any of his business. He looked away, reddening a bit. He adjusted his glasses. “Watermelon has a lot of antioxidants and great for electrolytes.”

Gladio noted Ignis’s blush. “Well, I did go for a jog before sundown.” Gladio had cleaned up afterwards and put on fresh clothes for his jaunt to The Juice Bar. He had wanted to impress Ignis, but not put himself on too strong, thus his casual duds. Where he usually dressed to impress back in the days when he clubbed or had been on his series of blind dates. “I’m more of a fruity kind of person, if I’m to be honest. Watermelon, strawberries, raspberries; any kind of berries, really. I’m sure you can whip up something that keeps the integrity of that melon taste.” Gladio winked at him.

Ignis startled at that. He cleared his throat, realizing the man _was_ familiar. Still, he was a wageworker and didn’t have the luxury of complaining. He couldn’t even remember what the man had done to make him familiar, but he figured he was rude or cheap or something, as that was the typical reasoning for noticing someone.

He worked in silence, setting the drink down. He didn’t want to go cold, since that tended to set people off, too. “Melon-choly Jam,” he said, forcing a smile. “Anything else?”

“I think that will do, for now,” Gladio said as he grabbed his wallet and paid. He took the juice from Ignis, their hands lightly touching. Even with gloves, the contact caused a slight shiver to run up Gladio’s arm. After busting a straw into the lid, he slurped the drink, the sour, but sweet melon and grape taste running through. “Delicious,” Gladio smacked his lips. “A cure for the blues.” Before Ignis could retort, he put his change in the tip jar and walked out the door.

\---

Gladio bagged his groceries--well, his charge’s groceries, as he chatted tensely with the store cashier, Ravus. The silver-haired man with one arm, blown off from a military tour, hadn’t lost his cool abrasiveness. Gladio couldn’t blame him after what he had seen in his time fighting for the Nifs, but he had no patience for Ravus’s constant nosy questions. _“What’ve you been up to since high school?” “Cup-Noodle salesman? How droll.” “You still wipe Noct’s arse? I’d have thought you gotten out of that trade?”_

Noctis said something rude back, but Gladio had tuned out by then. Ravus gave Noctis a death glare as he handed Noct the receipt.

The two walked out of the grocery store feeling put out.

Gladio had hated getting into Ravus’s particular line, but Noctis insisted because it was short and he had places to go. The last time Gladio had been in Ravus’s line, his father had picked it out, as he thought the guy was cute. That is, until Dad realized the man was barely older than his son and felt like an old geezer.

Gladio had never cared for Ravus back when they knew each other, when Gladio was in high school. Ravus had been a stuck-up pompous even then. The two had been rivals, sort of. Both had to supervise Noctis and Ravus’s sister Luna’s playdates. Nothing ever came of that romantically. When Noctis graduated, the two only spoke through letters, as Luna had gone to study abroad on an academic scholarship. Back then, Ravus was always quick to remind him he was older and much more responsible for what happened, ruining what he saw as two kids trying to have a normal amount of fun. It was some relief Ravus had been called up, though he felt weird and perhaps guilty Ravus had gone to fight for the other side.

Gladio and Noctis got into the Regalia, where Cor was waiting, smoking a cigarette with the top down. He threw it out as soon as he spotted Noct. He knew the rules; _no smoking in Regis’s car_.

Regis was Noctis’s father and CEO of Solheim Electric, a corporation that sprung from the ashes of Khamer & Profiteur, now selling solar panel technology. It had been a great acquisition on Regis’s part after inheriting his father’s business and debt. Regis took Khamer & Profiteur from specializing in being a shoddy, home security operation, to taking advantage of the energy crisis and buying up Solheim’s stocks and patents.

Noctis sat in the passenger seat next to Cor. A knot tied in Gladio’s stomach as he loaded the groceries in the back seat behind Cor. He then sat into the seat behind Noctis.

“Got you this.” Noctis rummaged in one of the bags for gum, handing it to Cor cheekily.

“Thanks,” Cor said moodily as he took the pack. He popped one in his mouth. “Mmm...grape.”

“I thought you needed that,” Noctis said with a hint of suggestiveness.

“I get it, my breath tastes like an ashtray--can’t bother you none.” Cor winked as he started the car up and headed in the direction of downtown.

Noctis put on the radio and started flicking around until he landed on an indie tween pop electronica song. He set his head back blissfully, adjusting his seat down. “Am I crowding you, Gladio?”

“It’s fine,” Gladio answered. His mind had wandered on other things than his space. He could not stop thinking about Ignis.

“You don’t sound it,” Noctis accused.

“You’re reading into it,” Gladio said dismissively.

“I think you’re still upset about Ravus. Don’t be. He’s a douche,” Noctis said. “Veteran or not.”

“It has nothing to do with Ravus,” Gladio grumbled.

“So then it’s something else,” Cor replied. He looked at him expectantly, ready to listen even to 20-something angst.

“It’s nothing,” Gladio insisted.

“Nothing if not idle chitchat,” Noctis teased. “Is it about a boy?”

“Not really,” Gladio lied. “I was just thinking about how I could use a smoothie. Had one of the best last night.” He didn’t notice that Cor perked up a little, as if waiting for a recommendation.

“Oh,” Noctis said, disappointed. “Is food all you can think about?”

“Yep,” Gladio said.

“Oh, okay.” Noctis laid back, grooving to the radio tunes.

Gladio internally sighed in relief. He was thankful Noctis was gullible. If this had been Prompto, a more natural gossip, he would have found a way to wheedle it out of him. Luckily, Prompto had been working downtown at the photography studio. Which, now that he thought about it, was about a block away from The Juice Bar. Perhaps if he left earlier tonight, Gladio could pick him up from work, dawdle a bit, and bring Prompto to the bar to inspect Ignis himself. Prompto could read people better; maybe he’d figure Ignis out.


	3. Chapter 3

“We got plenty of soda at my place,” Prompto insisted, though he followed faithfully after Gladiolus anyway. He was a little self-conscience, as always, because while Gladio might dress casual, he still sat on more money than Prompto would ever see, even with his dad’s affluent lifestyle, and his clothes still reflected that. And since he had gotten to use the darkroom for a couple hours on personal projects, Prompto was wearing some of his grubbiest clothes. Prompto typically worked on the media side of a social media firm, but he used his access to some of the higher end equipment for his own projects. He knew his clothing was discolored and he smelled chemically, but Gladio was using his long stride to lead Prompto on.

If Prompto thought there was anything strange about Gladiolus’s insistence, or the fact he hadn’t changed out of his nice work clothes, he was too distracted by the crowds on the street to mention it. “Is it some kind of holiday?” he offered idly, before realizing it was some sort of bar crawl themed to the Astrals. He had his camera out before he could help it and snapped a few pictures. Especially of the girl done up as Garuda in only feathers. _Only_ feathers.

By the time Gladio had dragged him to the bar, Prompto was feeling even more like a loser in his musty clothes, but there wasn’t much he could do. He realized Gladiolus hadn’t been taking in the crowds. He looked pretty serious about something.

“Uh, everything okay, big guy?” he asked, before eyeing their destination in some dismay. Smoothie bars...they sounded so healthy, but even a small probably had more calories than a whole double-bacon-cheeseburger and fries.

There were things that put the big friendly giant into his sullen silences. Noctis could have done something stupid. A new book’s ending was bothering him. Or there was a guy on Gladio’s mind.

Prompto almost suggested they try somewhere else. The crowds were bad even at a sober place like this. There were two people behind the bar, one taking orders and money, the other assembling them and passing them out. As they got further up the line, Prompto could see how antsy Gladio was getting. The guy behind the register called a sandwich order to the back.

Ignis came out with a sandwich wrapped up to go, calling out the order number. He marched past the line, grabbing a kid by the arm. “This is a dry establishment,” his voice rang out. If there was any guess Ignis needed backup by the larger men behind the counter, him dragging the offending spiker through the door and shoving him out all without crushing the wrapped sandwich put the kibosh on that. He started arguing with other patrons that had been part of that kid’s group, voice never getting very loud, but with plenty of force behind it. He made it known he had no problem flagging down a cop and the group left.

The sandwich was delivered with apologies and extra frequent buyer stamps.

Ignis started to gather up the wrappers and empty cups, only for someone to bump into him on his second go around, sending the last dredges of a sticky red drink all over him. He apologized profusely to the patron, for what other choice did he have? He waved off Libertus’s concern, careful to hold his apron out so it could catch the red goo dripping down his face.

He shot Prompto an annoyed look as the blonde started to laugh. He pushed his glasses off his face. Prompto sucked in a startled breath. “Man, if looks could kill, right buddy?” he asked, elbowing Gladio.

Ignis headed to the back to salvage his workwear. By the time Prompto and Gladiolus had made it to the front, Ignis had run his head under the sink, though his pale Dragoon grey hair showed serious red streaking and he had put on a spare shirt Libertus had that didn’t fit him right. He was busy filling the juice tanks when Nyx begged for a break.

“So, uh...what’s good?” Prompto tried, seeing Ignis still had the cold death look.

“I rather think it’s best you decide that in the ten minutes you spend in line, but that’s just me,” Ignis said with an exaggerated shrug. “How about you?”

“Uh...lemonade is fine,” Prompto squeaked out.

Ignis raised his eyebrows, but called it out. “And you?” he asked, realizing he had seen this guy the night before. He smirked at him. “Can’t stay away from the sugar rush, hm?”

Gladio stifled a chuckle at Prompto’s expense, but thrown off guard by Ignis addressing him personally.

“Apparently not,” a familiar voice said behind Gladio.

Gladio turned to see Noctis and some dweeb with dreadlocks with him. Both were dressed in the bar crawl theme. Noctis was Ifrit with his horned crown and cargo shorts and bark-like camo design. Otherwise, he was brazenly shirtless and wearing sandals. Gladio couldn’t help but think of Noctis’s uncle, who only ever wore sandals. It was worse with his friend. He wore a blue body suit with pasties and panties drawn on with glitter glue, but no facemask to cover up his forgettable face. His worst offense was his dreadlocks spray-painted silver.

“Shouldn’t you be napping?” Gladio asked his little brother Noctis.

“I decided to check out the bar crawl with a friend and Daddy said you had to watch me. But lo and behold, I wake up, and you’ve split. You do that from time-to-time to go here. What gives?”

“You spy on me?” Gladio asked dumbly. He looked distressed as Ignis looked on, visibly annoyed with the hold up. “Get me a strawberry rhubarb pie, and what do you want, Noct?”

“Hmm...” Noctis looked over the menu, drawing out the decision to watch Gladio squirm and the object of his affection hide his growing annoyance.

“What about me?” the blue-suited friend whined. “As Noct’s best friend, aren’t I entitled to a drink?”

“Boy, I don’t even know you,” Gladio said to him in response.

“The name’s Loqi Tummelt,” he huffed. “Son of Calligo Ulldor--”

“Look child, I don’t know you, or your different surnamed father, but we’re holding up the line, so pick. My treat,” Gladio sighed, resigned.

“Ah yes, I’ll take a Creme Irish Cream smoothie,” Loqi giggled mischievously.

“Chocolate Razcake,” Noctis mumbled.

Ignis might have been playing hot and cold, but his _right away_ was icier than the Glacian’s tits. Libertus looked ready to start in on something, but Ignis put a hand up. “Their money spends the same, Libertus,” Ignis reminded him.

“Hardly, knowing how it was earned,” he argued gruffly. He refused to make the drinks, eyes boring into Noctis the whole time. Ignis didn’t look at any of them, assembling the drinks without him. He kept a frozen smile on his face. “There, that’s everyone’s order, and it’s on the house, just like everything the Lucis Caelums have because your money is no good here. Here’s a carrier, since the joker left.” He placed the four drinks into it, sliding it across to them. “Next,” he said briskly.

Prompto had ditched. He’d completely slipped away upon Noctis and Loqi’s arrival. He wasn’t getting involved with that. Again.

Gladiolus, taking the carrier, led Noctis and Loqi out of the place. He had wanted to say something. Insist on payment at least, but he did not want to start a scene, nor hold up the line. He had messed up badly. His sneaking out when Noctis was asleep--or feigning it, apparently--had backfired. He should have known his association with the Lucis Caelums-- _gods, me being an Amicitia_ \--would catch up to him with their reputation.

The three walked out on the sidewalk where the crowds congregated around the bars, clubs, and other open businesses catering to the early evening crawl.

“Where to, Noct?” Gladio asked, a hint of anger in his voice. He shoved the drink into Loqi’s hand.

“Excuse _me_ ,” Loqi huffed.

Gladio ignored him.

“Um... Did I screw up?” Noctis almost looked ashamed.

“It’s no big deal, kid,” Gladio sighed.

“You went to see him quite often,” Noctis insisted.

“It’s none of your business,” Gladio snapped. “Drop it.”

“Okay.” Noctis looked down. “I thought we could go to Burger Pimps.”

“You would,” Loqi said distastefully.

“What, I like greasy food,” Noctis said pleasantly. “I’m not into fine wine and cheeses, or whatever socialites like.”

“Well, me neither,” Loqi argued. “But we could go for literally anything else, burritos, sandwiches, those Galahdians made me crave skewers...”

Gladio tuned him out. “Sure Noct, Burger Pimp’s sounds nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noctis and Gladio were raised next to each other, thus the familiar bond.
> 
> A slight explanation about our newest tags. Prompto is a character; he's even a main character, but if you think he's a smol cinnamon roll that can do no wrong, perhaps you should sit this one out.
> 
> Another note about Prompto; in this universe he was raised by Verstael, thus Prompto's name given as Prompto Besithia.


	4. Chapter 4

Noctis woke groggily. Pain spasmed through his out-of-shape body. He stretched his limbs, then stopped before he pulled a muscle in his busted leg. He would have nearly yelled out, but stifled it in time so as to not alert Gladio in the other room. He always fussed too much.

He fetched his cell phone from the floor beside his futon and pressed Prompto’s number. He heard several rings go by.

The phone went to voicemail, but about five minutes later, Prompto called back. He didn’t say anything, not even _yeah?_ when Noctis picked up.

Having had time to smooth the grogginess out of his voice, Noctis picked up first thing when Prompto called back. “Prompto,” Noctis said in low, annoyed voice. “Why’d you ditch us last night? You made us look like assholes. What kind of assholes associate with a guy who runs off?” Noctis tried not raise his voice. “You embarrassed Gladiolus.”

Prompto knew if he said anything, he couldn’t keep the waver out of his voice. Still, he couldn’t not say anything, either. He covered the mouthpiece and took the chance to breathe in and out, working on his bravado. Still, he was a tiny bit surprised at himself when he said, “You did that all on your own, Lucis Caelum.”

Prompto pushed his fingers through his bangs, wondering if he really just said that. He pinched himself on the leg, then winced. _Idiot_. He took a deep breath, quietly pointing out, “I’m surprised you even still have my number. I’d think having it in there would bring the worth down on your designer phone.”

Okay, seriously, who had possessed Prompto and why was he rolling with the lines? He shook his head in disbelief at his own daring. “Next time you want to drop in on Gladio’s personal business, consider keeping your playboy rich kid hands off it. He’s not your personal, hired friend, Noct. He’s your bodyguard. He is allowed to have a life outside of you, you know.” He clenched his free hand into a fist, shaking. “You can’t even let him get a drink without you spying on him. And for what? You report everything back to your dad? Make sure he doesn’t put a toe out of line?”

It was easier when it wasn’t about him.

“The only assholes last night were Mr. Lucis Caelum and Mr. Tummelt. And I don’t keep company with assholes.” He closed his eyes, feeling them start to burn on unshed tears. “You aren’t my problem anymore, Noct.”

Noctis recalled last night. He admitted to following Gladio, and that would seem like a dick move in retrospect. He had at first followed Gladio to see what he would do in his off times. Noctis had wanted to find time away from either his or his fathers’ prying eyes. He didn’t mean to be possessive, but Gladio was supposed to be, well, _his_.

What Noctis did with Loqi was his business. He had only followed Gladio long enough to make a turn on another street and seek Loqi out for quick escapades, like joy riding, baseball batting mail boxes in the dead of the night, joy riding _while_ baseball batting mail boxes in the dead of the night. Honestly, there was one time Noctis miscalculated and found Gladio already slipped out of his meetings at The Juice Bar. He dashed home and passed Gladio as he took the elevator. He rushed up the stairs madly and dove into their apartment. He snuck under the covers, trying not to breathe heavily. He surely thought Gladio would storm in and pop him, but he hadn’t that night, probably distracted by that Ignis fellow.

“Um...sorry, my mistake,” Noctis mumbled and hung up the phone. He crawled back into bed and fell asleep until he got another phone call soon after. He looked at the cell phone. His dad. _Aw...Shiva, what does he want?_ he thought.

He picked it up and grumbled an _ello_ into the receiver.

“Hey, Noctis my boy, you didn’t forget our breakfast date?” Regis sounded concerned. “Did you oversleep?”

“No Dad, I’ll be fine.”

“Good. Cor’s going to pick you up and meet me at Tony’s Diner. See you then.”

“I’ll be ready.” Noctis swiped the phone after _goodbyes_ were said.

He lay back against his futon and groaned some more.

\---

Noctis had popped some ibuprofen and showered by the time Cor came calling. Gladio had left before all that. He had written a note that he had gone off to work his new job at a store on the boardwalk. Noctis had forgotten he applied part time for the summer at the store he had walked in once, getting an application to fill out. The place was called Surf’s Up and had all the beachbum gear you would expect out of such a store.

Noctis came downstairs before Cor could meet him up. He got into the passenger seat beside him and they drove off.

Cor said little on the drive in spite of Noctis’s halfhearted attempts to engage him in conversation. The game was less fun without Gladio around to feel jealous.

They pulled up into Tony’s Diner. The establishment looked like a dive, but the food was good. Tony and Regis went way back and his son Dino was friendly, if a little shifty. Noctis recalled he worked in social media at the same design firm as Prompto these days. Noctis huffed at that. He and Prompto hadn’t spoken much since they graduated high school over a month ago, but their relationship had strained before that once Regis had struck big with solar panels, or maybe it was before, when the rumors of his grandfather’s security system scam spread around.

Noctis did not pay attention to his father and grandfather’s business ventures, as they cut him out anyway. But from what he gathered from Gladio, Granddad Mors sold shoddy security home alarms, young Gladio would burglar those houses, forcing those people to buy into Clarus Amicitia’s security firm, which was in turn owned by the Lucis Caelums. Most people didn’t know that connection until a whistleblower told a reporter about it and it ran in the papers and caused a scandal that made Noctis the talk of freshmen year.

Mors shook off the story and faced no jail time, but the damage had been done and business slowed even for them and the Amicitias. Regis and Clarus got the idea of investing in the fledgling Solheim Inc. before they bought it outright in a few years and the Lucis Caelums and Amicitias were richer than before the scandal. They had been foisted into higher society. Regis became a sort of guru to struggling businessmen and other wealthy elite falling on hard times, like the Nox Fleurets.

Noctis walked into the diner with Cor following. They caught sight of Regis instantly and they sat down in a booth towards the back.

“Good morning Cor; Son.” Regis handed them menus.

“What’s good?” Noctis asked.

“I thought you’d order first.” Regis went to flag down a waiter, but stopped in midair as he noticed the place was empty.

“Oh well, probably in the backroom.” Regis shrugged. “We’re patient men.”

Noctis, usually reserved, couldn’t help but look around the empty restaurant out of curiosity. It felt like a ghost town all of a sudden. Noctis thought of getting up to put money in the jukebox, when he paused abruptly and looked down at his placemat. He had thought he saw the distinct flat banged hairstyle and glasses of the cashier at The Juice Bar. Maybe he was imagining it, but after that confrontation, he would not like to be on the receiving side of his fake, backhanded generosity again. Especially not with his father around. He had resented their public outings more and more as the common folk treated them with phony reverence. The rich weren’t better, though.

That was one of the few things that bonded him and Loqi. Though haughty, the other youth related to him on the pitfalls of infamy being a childhood actor. His father, Caligo Ulldor, was also a character actor and infamous in tabloids for his various affairs with women and extravagant lifestyle. He had his mansion, car, and swimming pool painted gold. Noctis could verify that, having been over once. What he couldn’t verify was Loqi’s insistence that his father even owned a gold suit of armor and collected gaudy military tanks from the old war in a warehouse somewhere.

“Noctis, you okay?” Cor asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Maybe I have,” Noctis said evasively.

“Ahhh...my favorite customers!” Tony declared, hands clasping on Cor and Noctis’s shoulders. “I got something good; something you’ll all like. Carrot, eh, Nocto?” he teased, punching his arm playfully. “Good for growing boys! You’ll end up needing glasses on the high sugar, high protein diet, Lucis Caelums!” He gestured to the line order cook. “Just ask Iggy!”

Ignis spared them a look, but went back to prep.

“Okay, okay, he takes his job super serious. You’re in good hands. Iggy, I want you to take good care of my friends,” he called. “Best food.”

“Special privileges for the man of the hour,” Ignis answered back, sounding all the part of Tony’s chiding gushing. “I know no other way!”

He came over, standing before them. He slid out an order pad and clicked a pen, posed. “Feel free to go off menu a bit while you’re at it. Give me a real challenge.”

Tony cubbed Ignis on the back. “Remember, boy, everything’s on the house. We’d have nothing without the Lucis Caelums.”

Ignis smiled and nodded. “Of course,” though the moment Tony headed to the back, he added, “as you can see, we have no workers or customers because of the Lucis Caelums, too.”

Cor smirked into the menu. “Regis, you remember Impetus’s boy? Scientia?” he asked, voice his normal gruff self, hiding his amusement.

“Oh...of course,” though it was obvious Regis was reaching. “How has he, er, you been?” he amended, seeing Cor’s warning look.

“Working,” Ignis answered briskly. “Makes me an honest man.”

“Too rare of those,” Regis said sagely. He smiled mildly, finally giving Ignis a good look. “Do you know my son?”

“We had an overlapping year in school,” Ignis said friendly enough. Still, his eyes paused on Noctis, looking cold.

“So how have I cost my good friend Tony so much business and you any help?” Regis asked for a laugh.

“Walkout,” Ignis answered, eyes back down on the pad. He noticed Cor’s movements, and ducked quickly to grab the coffee and pour it. “Room for cream?” he asked, but poured fully at Cor’s headshake. “Anyone else?” he offered. He nudged the sugar shaker closer to him.

“I seem to be having a similar problem at the plants,” Regis commented. “They’re unionizing.”

“Yes, and my coworkers were fired when they joined in sympathy. But I have bills more than I have ideals.”

Regis laughed as if Ignis was an amusing jester. “Don’t we all?” he offered. “How about you join us, Scientia? Cook yourself something and take a load off?”

Ignis hovered between pressing his luck and kowtowing. He gave a jerky nod. “Of course,” he said clearly. He jotted down their orders, making an exaggerated note when Noctis got picky with his omelet and insisted on no veggies. “And I, too, will have the omelet. Maybe it’ll save my eyesight yet,” he seemed to tease the teen.

Cor spoke into his coffee. “Regis,” he advised, “I’d be careful. His old man is Lemon Scientia? Ignis is disavowed, but here he is at Tony’s.”

“Oh Cor, where would I be if I didn’t extend my hand to the hard-luck cases?”

“Driving yourself,” Cor said with a gruff smirk.

“Lemon, though,” Regis said, eyeing Ignis’s back. “Now that you mention it, he does have that same nose. Doesn’t his brother still work for Clarus?”

Cor nodded. “But I wouldn’t mention it. For your sake, Regis.”

\---

Ignis brought over their drinks in between cooking and assembled their plates at once, bringing them over. He set a plate down in front of each of them, sliding in next to Cor.

“So you know my son,” Regis offered. “And I’m sure you know me. But this is my friend Cor Leonis.”

“The Immortal himself,” Ignis acknowledged with a nod, taking Cor’s offered hand for a Nif handshake. “Of course.”

Cor shook his head. “You know your underworld, Nissy.”

Ignis eyed Noctis. “It’s a bit of a family tradition, right?”

“Uh huh,” Noctis mumbled nervously as he picked at his omelet. Noctis tried to place Ignis from school. He hadn’t known a lot of the upperclassmen, like they knew him. He had Gladio and his pseudo boyfriend, but they were graduated by the time he hit high school. They were a year older than Ignis, perhaps? Insomnia Prep ran from junior high on, but maybe Ignis only transferred for the last three years? Dragoons usually made it in on scholarships, so that made sense.

If he could just study his face without staring.

“Something wrong, kid?” Cor asked Noctis.

“Nope, nothing,” Noctis replied.

“My son’s shy,” Regis said in a lower voice to Ignis. “But he’s a good kid... _usually_.” He eyed Noctis with accusation. The look chilled Noctis to the bone. What did he know? “How’s Loqi’s swing compared to yours, Son?”

“Can we not, right now?” Noctis flushed as he readied to pass out to get out of this conversation in front of the guy Gladio liked.

“Of course,” Regis said. “It can wait, but I have a proposition for you, Son.”

“Me?” Noctis squeaked, unsure.

“I thought it time you got a job for the summer to keep you busy. Distract you from doing dumb shit,” Regis explained. “Iggy here works a nightshift at The Juice Bar. As you like to do your sneaking out around that time, getting up to mischief, you could spend that time instead making an honest living. Isn’t that right, Nis?”

“Most nights,” Ignis confirmed, voice even. “Can always use more security,” he said, hiding the bite of his words in taking a sip of his coffee. Like Cor, he drank it black, but not the mountain of sugar he saw him slip in. “We know the Lucis Caelums are good for that,” he added, as if to leave no doubt in what he meant.

Regis chuckled appreciatively. “Hardly, but we’ve certainly spun it to be a bit more illuminating, hm?”

Ignis laughed and it was only half out of knowing his expectations. “Strictly speaking, there’s the formality of an application, but Mr. Ulric has been looking to beef up the staff with summer unfolding. I’m sure Noctis is a shoo-in.” Like they really had a choice when the Lucis Caelums came knocking. _It isn’t Amicitia_ , he had to remind himself. _Libertus is going to **love** this..._

Cor gave Regis another warning look, before speaking to Noctis directly, “Summer jobs build character. Might make you rethink your afterschool goals before college deadlines. Food industry is hardly luxury. Takes hard work.”

Ignis shook his head. “Show up and it’s hard to fire you. There’s always someone that’ll pick up the slack. I should know; it’s usually me.”

Noctis looked at Ignis directly. “I’ll fill out the application like everyone else. For record keeping purposes, if nothing more. I’m quite qualified to have a job. I’ve been a paperboy and ran a lemonade stand when I was young. In high school, I was a busboy for about a week, but I joined band and had to make a choice in my commitments, ha ha.” Noctis blabbered on.

“He’s enthusiastic,” Cor said bluntly.

Ignis shifted his food around. “Welcome to the team, Noctis,” he said with an unreadable expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignis's father Impetus Abdite "Lemon" Scientia, as Dragoons have middle names. Why Lemon Scientia? Aij used a mafia nickname generator and then came up with "because he's who you call when things go sour".
> 
> Tony is that random guy at Cape Caem that's got the same accent as Dino and wants your carrots for his restaurant, so he's Dino's dad now and got a diner now, as apparently Jimmy puts a Tony's Diner in all his works.
> 
> Loqi is Caligo's son because we're all fools that read it that way in the Official Strategy Guide when they had a line connecting them, sorry.


	5. Chapter 5

Gladio had picked out a bouquet of blue hyacinths on his sister Iris’s advice. Though twelve, she was working an hour three times a week at a flower shop their father held interest in. It seemed he intended to make her more responsible than Noctis had gotten away with. Gladio had considered white orchids, but Iris insisted those had gone cliché in regards to apology flowers.

She had pestered her brother on who they were for, and all he could say was for someone he barely knew.

She wished him luck with an eyeroll.

\---

Gladio had thought long and hard about his little stunt. Perhaps the flowers were too much. Maybe Ignis wasn’t the kind of guy who’d appreciate them. Did he even understand flower language? Gladiolus picked it up a little. He was named after one and it sort of followed him since. His father used them for various occasions to woo his mother, to congratulate friends, give his sympathies to lost ones, etc.

Gladio would have sent them at Ignis’s address, but he barely knew the guy, let alone where he lived. He’d have to just show up in person at The Juice Bar and apologize for not being upfront with the bespectacled man and give him the out to discontinue their temporary foolishness, whatever that was. Gladio would just pass the place from now on and find another hangout during his nightly jogs, or stay home for once now that Noctis had started his secret mysterious night job.

It seemed Noctis’s old man popped him for his nightly mischief. Apparently it was worse than Gladio suspected. How hadn’t he noticed the latest stunts? Was Ignis distracting him too much? He’d have to keep a better eye on Noctis from now on and not get caught up with frivolity.

Gladio headed into The Juice Bar with his bouquet in hand and went up to the register.

“Are those for me?” came a teasing voice.

“N-Noct?” Gladio sputtered. “What are you doing behind the counter?”

“It’s my new job. You dig?” Noct said halfheartedly. “Yep, Daddy’s idea.”

“You didn’t tell him my business...?”

“Nah, it seems your boy knows people.” Noctis put a hand to his mouth. He had promised not to say anything in exchange for Ignis’s consideration in giving Gladio another chance, though Ignis hadn’t seemed too fussed about either end of that bargain. “I mean, don’t we all? Yeah, you remember Nyx and Libertus from high school, right?” They were several years older and hadn’t graduated from anywhere in Insomnia, but it was a good cover.

“Nope,” Gladio shook his head. “Can’t say I do.”

“Oh well, they’ve heard of us,” Noctis said. He kinda gave Gladio that look for _Family Stuff_. “Oh looky, your guy’s coming up. I better take your order. What will it be?” Noctis smiled sheepishly.

“A strawberry lemonade,” Gladio said, distracted as he eyed Ignis.

“You’re not supposed to be at the register,” Ignis reprimanded. He pointed rigidly to the back. “Dishes.” He waited, watching Noctis slump off to the back, before dragging his eyes to take in Gladio. He watched him for a moment with an unreadable expression, only to go make the strawberry lemonade. He set it down without a word, but said nothing about payment or anything about the pile of flowers.

Ignoring him completely as inconsequential, or perhaps simply an expected part of the landscape, Ignis walked out from behind the counter and threw himself down on the couch. He dug through his bag tucked there, pulling out a notebook, and starting to mark places with colored tabs. He glanced up over his glasses at Gladiolus. He gestured to the opposite couch. “A prince needs his knight. Take a load off. You needn’t run off on my account. I _only_ work here.” He smirked at him. “I live to serve. And now I have your charge as my gofer. You might want to enjoy the reprieve.” Ignis looked up towards the sound of crashing. “If that was the prep area, you better rewash the whole thing!” he yelled.

Ignis settled back down, working on his notes. “Lucis Caelum Senior made a point to buy me a replacement mailbox personally,” he said, in a voice that was a put-upon casual. “Always paying back the little debts and never taking the fall for the big ones. I wonder if either the Lucis Caelums or the Amicitias have room for such a small burden as myself.” He chuckled softly. “Of course, my uncle is small enough.”

He watched Gladiolus expectantly, then looked down again. “How’s the lemon?” he asked quietly. “Sour?” He raised his canned coffee to his lips. “Ahh...and mine’s bitter.”

Of course he was toying with Gladiolus. He was stuck with them in his life, despite all movements he made to shed his father’s past. It wasn’t enough to blend in with the crowd. No, the smaller the hole, the more had to be stuffed in there. “You can admit you have no idea who I am. No reason to hide behind pride.”

Gladio looked over at Ignis from the other couch. What could he say to such implications? “You’re right. I don’t know your story, Ignis. What my father and Regis do is above my paygrade.”

Gladiolus knew that inevitable future was a long time coming. At some point down the road, there was no passing the buck to Iris. He couldn’t do that to her when she still had a chance to get out, where as he got suckered in out of some sense of duty to his family. There were things decided for him--for them--that he had no real say in.

Before Ignis could talk, Gladio considered the rest of his long, drawn out, probably half-assed attempt of an apology. He was never good at those, thus the flowers. For all his twenty-one years, he still had a lot of growing up.

“Someday that may not be the case,” Gladiolus admitted. “For now, my job is to keep the kid back there safe and out of trouble, and I’ve done a bang up job lately with distractions.” Gladio cringed. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “I came here today to make amends somehow. I hadn’t been upfront about my identity. Now you tell me my associates hurt you and it’s deeper than my reputation carries me.” Gladio sighed. “So we can put this awkward dance to rest and I’ll stay out of your way. I am sorry for getting you involved. I can’t help but think I’m to blame for this predicament.” He gestured his head in the direction of the backroom where Noctis was working.

Ignis looked down at his notes, deliberately placing more tags on them. He finally sighed, setting his notebook down. “You can say it’s all above your rank, but you are benefiting from the splashback. The privileges. And people like me, people who work under someone’s thumb, we will never be on even footing. I am always going to be owing someone, no matter what they’ve already cost me. My life belongs to the same people yours does. So tell me, Amicitia, whether it’s blame or scorn or a vase for your flowers, what is it you expect out of me? What do I have to do to curry your favor?”

His voice stayed even, pleasant, probably more sincere and warm than he’d sounded any time before. He was pretending to suck up by failing to pretend. There was something in his eyes, the only sign that he wasn’t playing. He wasn’t angry, despite his words. There was a cleverness, but all the same, he couldn’t force his mouth into the smile and his eyes had the faintest hint of fear. He was desperate.

Gladio leaned forward. “Hey, I just liked you at first sight.” Ignis looked away at that, but Gladio kept going, “Your snark and your swagger; it was refreshing. I also dug the place. It keeps me from drinking beer at the pubs and getting in dumb fights. That’s how I got this scar here.” Gladio pointed to the scar down his left cheek. He’d been protecting that snot in the backroom from getting lippy with a drunk. Of course, Noctis had no business using a fake ID, so Gladio tried to drag him out of the place and some creepy fella trying to white knight the kid had slashed him with a broken bottle.

Gladio chuckled to himself as he watched a pissy-looking Noctis drenched in dishwater as he wandered the backroom. “Sorry, but it is kind of funny watching him work. You bossing him around, it makes me...jealous.” He was foolish, but honest to admit that out loud.

Gladio considered Ignis’s last words. “Maybe I expected a chance.” Gladio looked at Ignis with hope. He put his hand onto his. “Will you give that to me?”

“A chance for what?” Ignis asked, voice dry. He didn’t move his hand, but he kept his eyes from meeting Gladiolus’s. _No, no, no! He isn’t supposed to be like this!_ Ignis always had control. Even if it was knowing when to pull his punches and let someone get away with something. But that was the problem with the powerful men that ran the neighborhoods. They were right there. Unlike a king on his throne, these men were among them, everywhere. Demanding favors. Demanding money. Demanding _chances_. Nothing from here on out would be in his control. All he could do was control his responses and hope it was enough to participate, however unwillingly.

“I’m not kicking you out.” Ignis bit his lower lip, playing coy. It pronounced his overbite. “You’re free to watch Young Master Lucis Caelum do all of morning’s prepwork any time you want.”

Gladio flinched at Ignis’s response. He was pushing his luck with a man who couldn’t make up his mind. It was not his style to force anything, but Ignis gave him some mixed signals.

“A chance to be associates--not that kind,” Gladio corrected as he considered such a euphemism for his line of family business. “To be more to each other than reluctant strangers. You don’t have to tell me everything if it puts you in danger, and I won’t involve you in anything more than this mess in front of you,” Gladio thumbed at himself deprecatingly.

“I like you.” Gladio shifted his free hand to touch Ignis’s jawline. “I want to spend time with you, and not just for the little prince’s sake. It makes my life easier, sure, but I can’t pretend his presence doesn’t make yours harder with your attempts to steer clear of our kind.”

“Can you hardly say you know me?” Ignis asked, finally letting his eyes meet his. _Oh no...they’re sincere_. Ignis let out a wavering sigh. “I never said I was...your kind...I’m not...” Who let the idiot speak? Ignis was _always_ articulate.

He looked at Gladiolus fully. His hand went up to touch Gladio’s faintly, and while he wanted to pull it away, he nuzzled into it. He looked at him with wide eyes. “Why?” he finally asked. “You can hardly say I’ve been nice to you.”

Gladio’s breath evened after a pause. “Perhaps not,” Gladio conceded. “Can I blame you? I’m just some strange guy who wandered in and you humored me as far as you can throw me.” Gladio thought of the kinds of guys who usually went for him. Given his past dating life, it wasn’t great. The people interested were always eager to please because of his looks, his money, his reputation. Ignis was not impressed with any of that. “Somehow, in spite of blowing my chances, we’re here, aren’t we?” Gladio gave him a smile. He leaned closer to his face, waiting for a signal of resistance to call off this fleeting moment.

“You’d be surprised how far I can throw a man.” Ignis didn’t know why he said that. Maybe he just wanted Gladio to know he wasn’t intimidated by the bigger man’s physique. The power imbalance laid elsewhere.

His eyes glazed as Gladio moved closer. Someone with such soft bright brown eyes shouldn’t be so scary. He moved back, but only to tilt his head and give Gladiolus what he wanted. Their lips met into a kiss.

Ignis was no blushing virgin, but he had to admit he wasn’t expecting to be kissed so damn _good_ by the other. If he didn’t think about it, it was nice. His hand moved, fingers tangling into his long brown hair and gripping as his mouth opened to accept more attempts at Gladio getting to know him. It wasn’t so bad if he didn’t think about it. It was even pretty good, if he thought about it for a moment.

Gladio’s hand snaked up Ignis’s back and rested on his neck. He drew him into a deeper kiss. With his other arm, Gladio eased Ignis into laying position on the couch. Gladio’s body covered his as they lay together petting and kissing. Their movements were almost synced; it felt like they were perfect for each other. Nothing, _nothing_ had _ever_ felt like this with another person. Gladio didn’t want to pull away now that he’d found him.

“ _Eh hem_ ,” Noctis cleared his throat pointedly.

Gladio looked up from Ignis. He groaned, annoyed, as he brushed his hair out his eyes and got off of Ignis.

“Sorry, I, ah...did all the dishes and don’t know what else to do,” Noctis murmured sheepishly.

“You’re a real go-getter, aren’t you?” Ignis lightly taunted, huffing to himself as he climbed off the couch and fixed his shirt around his apron. He looked more put together than either of them, and if it wasn’t for his flushed cheeks, he’d have looked none the worse for wear.

Gladio looked away from Noctis like a thief caught in the act of stealing from the cookie jar. He moved away from Ignis as he got up to give Noctis orders.

“Nyx co-owns the place and he would be in the back, playing on his cellphone,” Ignis spoke for something to do. He pressed his glasses up his nose, watching Noctis critically. “When in doubt, clean something. Let me show you how to take apart the nozzles on the dispensers.”

His face jerked, as if he was going to look at Gladio, but he stopped himself. Still, he addressed him, “Feel free to hang out or not. I need to get back to--”

Prompto wandered in and stopped, looking around. “Oh...uh, hey,” he said, giving Gladio a wave. “Look who’s all--” He cut himself off, noticing Noctis in the apron. “Wow...bit of a step down, huh?”

Gladio noticed the familiar freckled visage and the feathery, blonde hair of Prompto. He really felt caught.

Ignis shot him an irritated look. “Yes, let’s all laugh,” he invited. “I’m sure this is very well beneath all of you, Besithia. But since I’m not here to learn some character, find some sort of absolution, or mock the service industry, I will return to my tier in life.” He eyed Prompto. “May I help you, sir?” he asked, eyes cold.

Prompto looked down at his feet. “No, uh...looking for a friend. My friend. My Gladio. Not...not _my_ Gladio, but uh...”

“Looks like he’s been found,” Ignis pointed out needlessly. “Anything else you need more suited for my role in life?”

Prompto pressed his lips together, as if he had to physically stop himself from saying anything stupid. He shook his head.

“And you, sir?” Ignis asked Gladio, though he still wouldn’t look at him. “Need a refill? Remember, everything’s on the house, so don’t hold back.”

Gladio eyed Prompto nervously as he noticed the scene in front of him. After another exchange with Ignis where he did that magnificent thing he would do, telling people off while inviting them to order, Gladio got up and joined Prompto at the counter and they got their drinks. Gladio nudged Prompto to take a walk _to burn off the calories and give Noctis some space_.

Gladio waved Ignis goodbye and promised to come back before the end of Noctis’s shift.


	6. Chapter 6

Gladio walked with Prompto around the block passing closed stores and alit late night snacks; Build Your Own Burrito, Insomnia Cookies, Bubble Tea And Sympathy, Pinball Wizard’s, and Geoffrey George’s Sandwiches. Gladio went in and ordered two grinders for him and Prompto; meat lovers for him, ultimate veggie for Prompto. They sat in the booth and unwrapped their sandwiches.

Gladio finally felt he could do more than small talk as he faced an expectant, but hungry Prompto,

“Ignis and I kissed,” he said.

“What’s up with Noctis?” died on Prompto’s lips. He probably shouldn’t dig into that. After spectacularly insulting Ignis, _again_ , Prompto figured he probably should stay away. He was going to go in, apologize for being a nervous weirdo that came off like a jerk, and maybe figure out how to put a good word in for Gladio. You know, like bros do. But, of course, he found what looked like the aftermath of more than a simple, sweet, chaste kiss. Ignis was like a particularly over-armed fort, but something was cracking under the pressure he was sure Gladio didn’t even know he was bombarding him with.

Prompto stared into Gladio’s eyes. They were friends. Even if it was because of Noctis. Even if he couldn’t stand Noctis anymore. Friends don’t lie to friends. Still, he brought the kiwi-fruiti-kazooi up to drink, still staring at Gladio. Who was he to rain on Gladio’s parade?

“Really now?” he asked, laughing nervously. “You two kissed? Or did you kiss him?” He looked away finally. “Not for nothing, buddy, but don’t you think maybe he’s a little too cold to actually warm up to ya?”

He could die. He really could. Gladio, who looked like walking success and Prompto. Loser in love Prompto. What did he know about the difference between being rebuffed and being flirted with? Maybe hard-to-get was a good look for people. Of course, if he played that, well, he couldn’t imagine it going much better than him avoiding Noctis. He was so clueless, Noctis still thought they were friends. He was that easy to fall by the wayside.

He dug into his sandwich so he could shut up, but he found himself still talking. “I’m worried, Gladio,” he said, swallowing before continuing, “remember the last time you thought someone was a sure thing?”

Gladio swallowed a big bite of his sandwich, taking in what Prompto said. “Ignis kissed me back when I leaned in. It was, well...it was warm and inviting.” Gladio sat back and thought about it. The sensation of Ignis and his lips meeting. The fire that was anything but cold. Prompto was wrong; there was a desperation behind the cool resistance. A need to protect himself. Both of them had been hurt. Ignis implied as such. Gladio had been burned in his time, too, from letting someone get close, so Prompto was right in that sense.

Perhaps he and Ignis were being foolish in that moment on the couch and Noctis was just sparing them from further awkwardness and heartaches and then Prompto showed up.

“So wait a minute, you came back to the juice bar? Why?” Gladio eyed Prompto pointedly. “Was it Noct?” Gladio should have kept his mouth shut then. He knew Noctis had become a sore subject for a while now. “You don’t have to answer that, but you know, Prompto, not that you’re obligated, but perhaps you could get through to him better than I’ve been doing lately. It’s that Loqi. He’s a bad influence. Heh, I know; that’s rich. The whole family’s a bad influence. What am I saying? You didn’t hear that from me.” Gladio laughed bitterly.

Prompto scowled and looked away. He couldn’t believe Gladiolus could be that dense. He was starting to wonder if the two of them blundering through things was some sort of codependency. Still, Gladio _was_ responsible for Noctis nowadays, so he really couldn’t be blamed for reaching out to anyone that could help.

He sighed, setting his sandwich down. His appetite was gone. It was hard to get excited about veggies between bread when everything about Noctis made his stomach churn. “I didn’t know Noctis was working there,” he said calmly. “I’m actually surprised. Seems like you’re mixing business and pleasure,” he did a good job at teasing. Prompto rubbed his eyes. His contacts were starting to itch. He was tired, moody, and wondering how this night could get any longer, but talking about Noctis was probably a good try. “Loqi isn’t a bad influence. He’s easily goaded into doing bigger things to show off, but he’s not, you know...” Prompto shrugged. “He’s a weasel and rude, but he’s not going to get Noctis in any serious trouble he doesn’t already want to be in. Noctis, if anything, is acting out,” he explained, pausing as he realized he sounded like a parent. How did that happen? Because he cared. Prompto wanted Noctis to be the friend he’d worked so hard to measure up to. Because without Noctis, he was just forgotten.

Prompto drummed his fingers on the table, then picked up his drink for something to do. “Yeah, anyway, I’d be probably the last person you’d want solving the Noctis behavior conundrum, when you think about it. But it’s not easy...when your family is...moving up in the world.” Or running the underworld.

He took a drink. “I know one thing. Your boy might not be friendly, but his iciness makes a good drink.” He sat back, hoping that they had moved away from Noctis. “Nah, bro, I was there for you. I mean, I wanted to...well, you know, feel him out for ya.” _Talk to him again._ He reached over, punching Gladio on the arm. “You always jump without looking when it comes to love. You romanticize the idea of a person without waiting to get to know them. Just be careful man.”

\---

Libertus raised his eyebrows when Gladiolus came back to pick up Noctis. “Hey Amicitia,” he greeted. “I sent the Lucis Caelum on his way. Scientia is the better trainer. I don’t have the stomach for it. He, uh...left you a to-go order.” He fumbled, searching for a juice and a wrapped sandwich. “Let the rookie, I mean, he let Lucis Caelum practice. Doesn’t quite have his wrapping technique down, but it should be edible.” It was a Berry-Apple-Ling and the chicken caesar wrap. Libertus watched Gladiolus for a long moment. His expression was easy enough to read. Critical and angry. “Hey, be careful you don’t break something that isn’t so easily replaced.” He pushed his hair back. “I’ve never had Scientia call in once. Now he’s going home early. Hiring the little prince was supposed to help us, not make us lose our best employee.”

The sandwich had a napkin around it. And that napkin had an address.

Custos _Uncle_ Scientia was a soldier, but a real earner. He had his own business and he was around enough that Gladio would know his name. He’d been over to the house for closed-door meetings and dinner after. He didn’t really look like Ignis other than the grey hair that Dragoons were known for.

Ignis was a foreigner. A Nifleheimian, with where their control rested in the war. Probably a refugee like the Galahdians, or maybe a new settler after their side had lost. Someone looking for a better life after Imperial rule.

The address led to a house within a few blocks. It was easy enough to spot due to its brand new mailbox, while the rest of the street had none. Noctis and Loqi had been thorough. Ignis was on a wicker couch, doing work by the porch light. He looked up, noticing Gladio. He made a motion to shush him. He gathered his stuff up, getting it into his bag.

He climbed down the stairs, joining Gladio on the sidewalk. “I have roommates.” He looked up at Gladio, adjusting his glasses. “Including a 5-year-old. Let’s go for a walk.”

Ignis didn’t make a motion to touch Gladiolus, but he walked evenly by his side. The early morning neighborhood was quiet. The houses weren’t terrible, but they were old and small.

“You said you wanted to become something,” Ignis spoke after awhile. “I do think that should start with getting to know each other,” he said, oddly formal. Yet Ignis made no attempt to start.

Gladio had thought about Ignis and his last conversation where Libertus referred to Ignis as _Scientia_. The name sent unease in Gladio, but who didn’t when they worked in the many cogs of the Family Outfit. Though a lot lower on the chain than his father, Uncle Scientia was brilliant and ambitious in his schemes, but didn’t step on too many toes above him. Those under him were another problem and the Dragoon dealt them a firm hand.

Gladio had been warned to stay away from him from his father. Scientia headed his own squadron and had no qualms about harming those who crossed him. Gladio heard he was ill-tempered and strangled a guy for giving him too short of a haircut once, though his homemade pastries were to die for, according to Cor Leonis, who had the luxury to try them at one of the meetings Gladio couldn’t attend. He hadn’t taken the oath and his father would rather he finish college before getting involved.

Gladio looked over at Ignis and tried to place his face to Custos. Perhaps they could be related or not. Maybe Scientia was a common name where his forefathers were from. He had suspected Dragoon, based on his accent and phenotype, which Custos had in common, but otherwise, nothing stood out other than Custos’s penchant for wearing his hair in a slicked DA, while Ignis kept his styled straight up.

Gladio thought of all of this as they kept walking in silence. He knew he should speak up after Ignis’s invitation.

“Alright,” Gladio started, “I’ve been a homebody lately. My local book club imploded because the leader’s going through a divorce and wouldn’t assign anyone to take over. I would have, but I had exams, and in the stress of studying and going through a bad...breakup, I let my gym membership expire, but I got a job at Surf’s Up for the summer, so there’s that--and Noct.”

Gladio realized he had been talking too long. “How about you? What do you do on your days off besides humor a fool as I? What about your roommates? Your family?” He was pressing his luck on that last one with his suspicions forming in the back his mind. He had figured what Ignis said of his family’s benefits and Ignis being under someone’s thumb was true. Who wasn’t owing someone in common with the Outfit? But what if it was more personal than indirect connections and the Amicitias’ reputation?

Ignis raised his eyes to look at Gladio, but didn’t say anything. He as easily turned to look around the sleepy neighborhood, keeping quiet.

“I don’t have days off,” Ignis finally spoke. “I’m full time at The Juice Bar. I have other work, too,” he said, not exactly evasive, but jumping right over the subject. “Not a lot of free time.” He finally spread his hand out, gesturing forward in their walk. “I called out to have any time to spare you.” He sighed, slumping a little. “You sound pretty bored to be taking it up with me.”

Ignis shook his head. “I’m afraid I’m not very interesting, Gladio. I’m better off being quiet and looking good,” he said in a voice that sounded weary, as if he heard that many times and was only repeating it. “And next to a big piece of surly good looks like yourself, I doubt I’ll even be good for that.”

He stopped, rubbing his mouth as he struggled to look up at Gladio again. His eyes were on the space between them. “It really doesn’t matter who I used to be. I’ll be whatever you think you see when you look at me.” He finally looked into Gladio’s eyes, resolved. Ignis wrapped his arms around his neck, leaning his body against his. “Isn’t that enough?” He moved to kiss him. “Or do I have to give more?” Couldn’t he just drown in Gladiolus’s expectations? Why be what he always fought against?

Gladio was taken aback by the motion and the words, like he had been slapped. He could kiss him, or push him away. If Ignis still thought of him as superficial, what did it say about Ignis wasting time with him like this? “Didn’t have to call off early on my account,” Gladio breathed against him.

With a sharp intake of breath, Ignis dunked his head again. “What about my account, Gladiolus? Everything I do is so carefully thought-out and planned and reacted to and nothing you’ve done so far has been easy or fair. You want me to be something and I don’t know what it is.”

Gladio sighed, annoyed. “Alright, I’ll make it easier. I wanted a date with apparently a phony with no depth who seems to think of me the same. So what is your intentions with me, then? A hookup?”

Ignis smiled up at Gladiolus. He always smiled through pain. He laid his head against the front of Gladio’s shoulder. “I should simply let you crack me open and let you handle me. Sift through the parts, figure out what you like, claim me like a pearl?”

He chuckled, but it wasn’t warm. “My intentions, Gladio? Can I still call you Gladio?” he teased. He leaned back, but now his hands slid to grip at Gladio’s upper arms. Ignis’s intense green eyes met Gladio’s wounded brown. “To not make the same mistakes my mother did, falling in with my father. To not make the same mistakes my father did, when he fell in with your lot. But especially not the same mistakes I always do, which is to think I can truly ever escape this and falling into it anyway. Because you’re so persistent and so earnest and so...so--hopelessly romantic!”

Ignis turned from Gladio, adjusting his glasses to hide the shake in his hand. He stifled his shaking, impassioned breath. He brought his voice back down to controlled, soft sarcasm. “My intentions were to take your order and avoid upsetting such a powerful thug. The fact you might prove to carry much more than that hardly changes who I am, Amicitia. I am not going to suddenly be something I’m not, unless you expect that from me.” Ignis looked at Gladiolus over his shoulder. “You claim you like me, but what other than a sarcastic, guarded wage slave have I been to you so far? So who is really the superficial one here?”

Ignis sighed wrapping his arms around himself and hanging his head. “Me, because I figured I could close my eyes in this and not see what you’ve done. Shallow, foolish, selfish; whatever you call me, Gladio, I am. Why bother telling you about it?”

Gladio hitched his breath as he thought over Ignis’s words. When he wasn’t cryptic, Ignis had a way of drawing out complicated thoughts. It was as though Ignis felt defeated by Gladio’s persistence; his sincerity. Was Gladio a romantic? Sure, but he knew when to be practical. Ignis was confused and weary of Gladio, and who could blame him? He was a former burglar trying to be on the straight and narrow, work an honest job, get an education, and keep Noctis ignorant of their fathers’ business. Not that the young prince didn’t have his own observations and others’ accusations to lash out at anyway.

Gladio looked at Ignis in that moment. Time hung on a moment of inaction, before he embraced him and mashed mouths. Gladio had to consider Ignis’s experience to be this good rather than the sloppy awkward mess Noctis made of his first kiss with him. It had been a request that Gladio had initially been reluctant to take advantage of, but he eventually figured it was him, some old creep in the organization, or some awkward dweeb like Loqi. So for his sixteenth, they had kissed and cuddled after the party left. Both agreed it wasn’t right and Noctis had questions about his sexuality, or lack of it. Noctis had suggested a date, but Gladio couldn’t bring himself to take his teenage brother out. None of that he was prepared to unpack then, so Gladio left it alone. He told him they could talk when they could look each other in the eyes again, but that hadn’t happened.

Ignis kissed back heatedly, maybe a bit too eagerly, but as the only part of him that went unguarded. Instead of getting lost in the kiss, Ignis simply felt pinned in the moment. Like nothing else mattered, least of all who or what they were. All he felt was the heat of Gladio’s mouth; the moments where the kiss almost ended, only for one of them to follow; the short kisses Gladio made to end it. Ignis lightly scratched at Gladio’s beard, hand holding him close even as their lips closed. Their shared breath as they stayed pressed against the other. If all he had to do was kiss Gladio, it would be easy. But for whatever Ignis wanted, and this he wasn’t sure, Gladio made it clear it wasn’t enough.

Gladio shifted away from Ignis’s pouty lips and rested his forehead against his. He brushed his hands over Ignis’s jaw. “I expect nothing from you. Not from a Scientia, wage slave, or capodecina. Maybe I don’t know you more than surface. I felt a connection and wanted to get to know you, but you can’t even tell me what your hobbies are, favorite food, favorite movie, favorite color? You know the kind of small things that a burgeoning couple talks about.” Gladio listed his off. “Collecting random junk, shish kabobs, _Zefer Vs. The Ruby Dragon_ , purple, sometimes green.” Gladio looked into Ignis’s said colored eyes.

Ignis cringed at _capo_ like it was a curse. It was. A curse on his life. A branding over his name. Something he could never leave behind, despite how he tried. If Gladiolus had only wanted to know his favorite movie, then maybe it could be as comfortable as kissing him. Yet Ignis knew that he hadn’t dug into surface things. He’d gone right to family. He’d gone right to intimate subjects. He sighed, both resolute and yielding. Though he tried, casting around for an answer, all he could think about was the last movie he’d been near. He’d put a kid’s movie on for his roommate’s daughter, trying to buy some time for homework while watching her.

Ignis pulled away from Gladio, trying to clear his vision that refused to focus. His hands felt heavy and full of tingling shock and he felt like he’d lost his body along the way. Numb. He felt numb. He felt it was so obvious to everyone, yet Gladio saw something else. He was an uptight, rigid, humorless workaholic that had stripped himself of any of his own past, that he wasn’t allowed something as whimsical as a favorite color. All colors existed fairly equally and all had their purpose. There was no point in putting importance over another or extending preferential treatment. It wasn’t efficient to be caught up in something like that. But try explaining that to a romantic.

Ignis was smiling again, but it was the same. The humor that something like this was worth pain. What kind of bore was he? He couldn’t even play the game of _favorite color_!

He raised his hand, needlessly adjusting his glasses as if the motion bought him time. He’d been silent long enough. Why didn’t Gladiolus notice how little there was below the surface? How dare he demand answers for things he didn’t have?

“I have work in the morning,” Ignis said, starting slowly but building up. “I took time off work for you, but maybe for myself, too. Because I typically use my slow shifts to catch up on schoolwork. But now I’m training Young Lucis Caelum because his father bestowed upon me the right to do him the favor of whipping Noctis into shape. Something he clearly needs, not pointing fingers at anyone present. I have a double shift tomorrow I couldn’t back out of where I will unlikely have any help again. Tony Ghiranze’s place, in case you’re wondering. Yes, the infamous Tony’s Diner. Where I cook part-time. All Scientias cook, though being a short order is hardly of the same caliber as my old man. I hear they got him comfortably in a hair net, so maybe prison isn’t so bad. Sometimes I don’t even know who I am with all the hats I switch between, so I hardly have had time to develop idle preferences and larks. I prefer efficient and to the point so I know what I may do for someone. Good food is good food and bad food is sustaining. Colors have never done anything wrong or right to be favored, and the last movie I saw in a theater was _The Rogues of Rydielle Ley_ with my father, and the only reason that sticks out was the fight he got in with a couple of wiseguys that had ripped him off. My uncle had to pick me up from the station.” Ignis dug his hands into his back pockets, finally turning back to Gladio. “Not exactly a fun 9th birthday,” he said dryly, but with some humor.

He dropped his shoulders, looking a little less defensive. “Gladiolus, I might be witty. I might know how to style my hair. But there really is not much going on underneath. And I can see that will disappoint you. I’m not shallow. I’m just too busy for depth.” He raised his wrist, looking at his watch. “And if I get home now, I’ll have a chance to finish my homework before my shift.”

Ignis placed his hand on Gladio’s shoulder, pulling himself up to kiss Gladio gently. “Get yourself someone that can go on dates.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning for kink-mention.

Gladio had been disappointed by the kiss off, but he respected Ignis’s wishes. He kept busy without him, still taking Noctis to and from work, hanging with him at the apartment playing videogames, and playing GM in the high-fantasy tabletop roleplay _Crystal Chronicles_ with Loqi. Neither of those were really his thing, but it was less tedious than he expected once he got the hang of the rules. Gladio missed his reading group.

On Regis’s order, he agreed to chaperone Noctis to Loqi’s father’s mansion. He had never been, having avoided it at all costs, but he had no choice now, and figured he owed it to Regis to keep an eye on the two for potential mischief. Plus, he had never met an actor before, not counting some minor nightclub singer his father knew who had bit parts on various episodes of TV shows made in Lucis.

Gladio and the two teenagers coordinated with Cor to drive them to the mansion. Gladio asked Cor why he came for a dumb job when he could be doing other things or having the night off. Cor shrugged, explaining that Regis thought he could use an extra hand in dealing with the two snot-nosed punks. They had other people to rely on for driving, but for old time’s sake, Cor tended to fill in. Still, the suits were new on him and Gladio knew that it’d come with a step up in social standing.

They got through the gates of the mansion and parked. Caligo Ulldor and his manservant greeted them at the steps. They gave introductions. Caligo seemed like a foppish slob, but who was Gladio to judge? Cor looked amused, but rolled his eyes as Caligo gave them the tour no one asked for. Noctis had been right; there was a golden (or brass?) knight armor displayed.

One of Caligo’s maids alerted him to a business call, causing him to cut out of lunch early and insist they all take a swim in the pool. Loqi pouted and insisted he didn’t want to, causing a minor argument until Loqi slumped in his chair and conceded.

Noctis, having told Gladio the possibility in the first place, had packed the necessary bathing suits and sunscreen.

The four of them walked onto the patio outside to find a brightly shining kidney bean of pure light blinding them.

“Aw, come on, what is that?” Gladio complained as he put his arm over his eyes.

Loqi laughed nervously as he stepped over, eyes shielded to look at the pool. “Oh dear, Dad had the whole pool renovated.”

“Last time it was just panels,” Noctis mumbled.

“He did the whole thing in gold?” Gladio asked, aghast, as he grabbed for his sunglasses. Even the waterslide was glowing.

Cor, unflappable as always, didn’t pull out sunglasses. He sat, fully suited, in a reclining deck chair and posed to supervise, arms crossed. He didn’t say anything to anyone until Loqi had tried to goad him. He pinned the kid with a single look, not quite frowning, but severe nonetheless. “Go play,” he dismissed.

When a servant brought out drinks, he accepted the gold-rimmed glass of fizzy lemonade, looking at odds with the umbrella and fruit garnished drink. He sipped at it, eyes on Noctis, who had to keep throwing an arm over his tired eyes.

Cor raised his eyebrows at Gladio, who stared sadly into his drink. He motioned his head over. “What’s eating you, Gladdy?” he asked, using his sister’s silly nickname in his dry serious voice. “Or rather, what took a big ol’ drink of the Gladster and spit it out?” he asked with a slight curve to his lips.

He gestured a hand around the cabana. “On such a shiny day with your little friends, I figured you’d be in a better mood.”

Though in his swimsuit, Gladio had not gotten in the water with how bright it was, opting to sit under an umbrella and read with his sunglasses on.

He looked up from his reading to face Cor. Though his stomach did flips facing him, he said calm and soberly, “What else is new? I met a guy; he wasn’t interested. The end.” He took a sip of his drink, a strawberry daiquiri to keep him from blabbing some more. Tasted good; hint of alcohol, but not as good as anything Ignis threw at him. He kept drinking as he awaited Cor’s response. Just what he needed; his old crush giving him love advice.

“Is that really such a common story with you?” Cor asked, looking impressed. He waved his hand, as if he was dismissing the conversation, yet he still made a thoughtful noise. He let Gladio stew in it for a bit before finally asking patiently, “Did you actually tell him this time?”

When Gladio turned to look at him, he winked. Or it could be the startling reflection. Hard to tell.

“It is lately,” Gladio said. When Family got in the way. He looked over at the pool where Noctis and Loqi wrestled in the water, calling each other dumb insults. It seemed Noctis didn’t have a hard time making a friend, but he had lost Prompto as a result.

“Cor.” Gladio turned to him. “What can you tell me about Custos Scientia?”

Cor raised his eyebrows at him, taking a thoughtful drink. He set the glass down, sitting up. “Gladiolus Amicitia, have I ever steered you wrong? Have I ever said something and it turn out to be bullshit? Would you say you have a healthy dose of respect for me?” He eyed Gladiolus carefully. “Then you are better off accepting there is nothing I can tell you about Uncle Scientia that you want to hear.”

He sighed, crossing his arms and looking away. “It’s bad enough Regis thinks it’s harmless to string his spectly nephew along.” Cor shook his head. “Whatever silver fox you find to settle down with, Gladio, be careful you’re ready to have your kids inducted. Or don’t have them.”

He ran his hand over his close-cropped hair. “Crushes are one thing, Gladio, but messing with politics gets brutal.” Cor gave Gladiolus a soft look. “Sometimes, it doesn’t matter how we feel.” He clasped his hands together, folded on his chest. “Our decisions are often made for us. You’d be wise to remember I have your fathers’ ears as much as Lord Sir Lucis Caelum’s. I still would be ill-advised to assume I have their understanding. No, you can do better, even in the Family. You’re better off letting Custos go.”

Gladio looked at Cor with his mouth hanging open, like a cartoon character. _Did he just...?_

“I think we got our signals crossed,” Gladio laughed. “I’ve no interest in Custos Scientia in that kind of way. Noctis works for his...nephew, I guess? It’d be advantageous to know what I’m dealing with when I handle Ignis. You see, he’s scared, I think,” Gladio lowered his voice, “of getting involved with me on a personal level. It’s my fault Regis got wind of him. I met him without even knowing his name. Next thing I know, Noctis is up to mischief behind my back, when he’d usually be sleeping the day away and my nightly jaunts to a damn juice bar comes out.” Gladio sighed, pushing his bangs above his head. “What do I do, Cor? I liked Ignis at a time I was getting over someone I had no chance with.” He looked over at Cor pointedly.

Cor got splashed as Loqi tripped over a chair next to him.

Noctis tackled him and put him in a hold. “Submit! Submit!” Noctis growled intently. “I’m King of the Golden Pool!”

“The only king you’ll ever be is the King of Golden Showers!” Loqi retorted.

“What does that even mean?” Noctis asked, confused.

Cor cringed, gritting his teeth. He was trying to sort out himself to make sure his phone wasn’t ruined, but shooting narrow-eyed warning looks at Loqi.

“I have no idea,” Loqi admitted in a strangled voice.

“Where’d you hear about that?” Gladio spoke up as he broke the kids apart. He instantly regretted asking.

“It’s something my father asked of his girlfriend,” Loqi said with a shrug.

“Yeah...” Gladio peered down at the poor, rich boy. “Stay away from those. Never take an invitation if asked. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Loqi replied as Gladio helped him up. Noctis had turned over the other chair and lay down, breathing heavily.

“I mean, unless you’re into that sort of thing, no judgment, but got to know what you’re getting into, right?” Gladio inspected Loqi for scratches, ignoring Cor’s look of dancing-eyed amusement pointedly.

“Loqi!” Caligo yelled from the patio.

“ _Eep!_ ” Loqi looked up to see his father furious.

“Come here, now!”

“Coming, Father!” Loqi stalked off.

Gladio stood over at Noctis. “Noct.”

“Yeah,” Noctis breathed.

“I think we need to have The Talk, but not right here,” Gladio sighed.

“Fine,” Noctis groaned. He had dreaded it. His father was to give it to him, but Noctis always found a way to get out of it. Regis, on his part, was also too embarrassed when the subject came up. Clarus had been all ready to dive in, but had been thwarted enough times to forget about it.

Noctis didn’t want to sit and have the awkward mechanics of sex discussed. He had some idea of how it worked from gossip at school, and what little he knew made him not want to know more and ruin the mystique.

He had always dreamed of someone, like a theoretical guy he would meet in the future, showing him, not discussing it clinically. He’d hoped for sharing something intimate and special. Noctis knew it was corny, but he wanted to save himself for his inevitable husband. He pouted at Gladio.


	8. Chapter 8

“What do you think of this?” a young girl’s voice rang out.

“I think your mother gave us explicit instructions to buy new sunblock and that’s all she’s given us money for.”

Solara Highwind frowned up at her _padrino_. Ignis wasn’t as easy to wheedle from, but it could be done. “But _you_ have money,” she pointed out.

“Of course I do,” Ignis said with a sigh. “But it’s spent as soon as I earn it, my dear.”

Solara continued to frown at him. Ignis looked back at her, same exaggerated frown on his face.

Sighing in a manner similar to Ignis, Sol put the keychain back. “You’re a real butthead, Iggy.” She grabbed the bottle from Ignis and marched up to the counter, slamming it down with as much force as a five-year-old ever had. “Just this. Because I have the worst uncle in all of Eos!”

Ignis shook his head. “Sol, leave your troubles at the door. I don’t think--” _Ah..._ “--Gladio.” He cleared his throat. “Well, you probably found someone to agree with you,” he said, pushing his sunglasses off his face.

It’d been two weeks since Ignis had spoken to Gladiolus. They’d seen each other through the glass, as Noctis was to be accompanied to and from his job, but Gladio no longer came in. Ignis still sent Noctis out with a drink each end of shift, but usually stayed an extra hour past to transition with the morning shift. He didn’t know if Gladio was mad or respecting his space, but somehow he couldn’t give up and leave well enough alone. He meant it as some sort of peace offering himself. Some sort of assurance that he wasn’t mad. But it felt cheeky now that he stared at Gladio this close.

It was a rare scheduling marvel that Ignis found himself with an afternoon to himself. His roommates had convinced him to join them at the beach, and while he had heard Gladio tell him his job, everything around it had clouded it from meaning anything. If Wedge hadn’t spilled their lotion, he probably wouldn’t even be standing there.

Ignis looked different out of his uniform. He was wearing swim trunks and nothing else, showing off how he was no frail, skinny bookworm, but lithe, toned, and more than capable of handling himself. His claims to being able to throw Gladio were that more believable. His hair was wet and his bangs fell into his eyes. He looked different without glasses. Softer.

He offered a faint smile, though he was blushing. “The tables, er, well, counter, have turned,” Ignis tried to joke.

Sol looked between them suspiciously. She was a sharp girl. “Do you know him? Because then maybe he can give us a discount and I can get the keychain.”

“Solara!” Ignis burst out. He bent down to her level, clasping her hands in his. “Be careful with whom you strike a deal. You don’t know what they’ll ask in return.” He looked up at Gladio through his bangs. “I’m sorry, Gladiolus. Just the sunblock, please.”

Gladio took the money and gave Ignis the change and receipt. He bagged the sunblock and handed it to the girl, who had outstretched her hands expectantly.

“That’s good advice from your uncle,” Gladio said to Solara. He felt like a suck-up saying that.

Gladio, for his part, wore knee-length shorts and a patterned button up shirt with only one button closed that revealed his chest and stomach. He was still in shape, continuing his daily sit-ups and pushups and evening walks.

“Nice seeing you again,” Gladio said to Ignis, confirming Solara’s suspicions. He looked down at her. “Nice to meet you too, miss. Take care and don’t give Iggy a hard time.” Gladio winked at Ignis. _Astrals...he looked better with his bangs in his face._

Ignis opened his mouth, but he looked caught. He finally nodded, taking Solara’s hand. “You as well,” he said quietly. Ignis led her out, but peeked over his shoulder. He offered a wave. He’d seen Gladio every day. But talking to him was different.

\---

“What are you reading?”

Ignis jumped back to avoid knocking heads with Gladio. He offered a rushed apology and blush. He hadn’t meant to sneak up on him, but casually browsing hadn’t drawn Gladio’s attention. Then, realizing he was absorbed in the book, Ignis couldn’t help but stare. Before he could get caught, though, he figured he should make himself known in case he was caught slinking away.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Ignis insisted. He gave Gladio a sheepish smile. He’d put a T-shirt on. It was tight over his toned muscles. He kept looking at what he could see of Gladio’s chest. It was more of the tattoo he was trying to figure out and less about his physique, but he of course noticed it.

Ignis squirmed a little, going to rest his elbows on the counter and lean. “That’s my roommate’s kid. But her mother, um, Aranea is...well, she’s a friend. Well, more than a friend.” He jerked his head up. “I don’t mean anything improper,” he insisted suddenly, knowing he should have just kept his mouth shut. He let his shoulders slump. Without his glasses to play with, he moved his hands nervously. They weren’t gloved and they were molted with scars. “She was there when I was a bit lost is all. I suppose I’m still lost and she’s still there.”

He looked into Gladio’s eyes. “Gladiolus, I feel terrible for how brisk I was with you. Young Master Lucis Caelum--Noctis,” he amended, having been told several times to stop his formality by him, “let it be known I was standoffish and rude. Actually, he called you a sweetheart and me a cold robot.” He rested his hands on the counter, looking down at them. “I don’t want anyone to think that of me.” He turned his eyes up to meet Gladio’s, looking at him through his lashes and bangs. “Least of all someone as sweethearted as you.”

Gladiolus handed the book to Ignis to look over. It was called _I, MT_ by Isaias Azimia and Eandus Bindus. “It’s a short story collection about the adventures of an escaped MT discovering humanity and helping people along the way, while his owners try to capture him and others try to kill him. There’s also an MT psychologist who tries to solve the problem of why MTs are acting up.” Prompto hated the book and gave it to him to read over so they could trash talk it later.

“You’re not a robot,” Gladio laughed. “You have too much on your mind to be programmed, though it’s nice of Noctis to stick up for me. However, you don’t know me past my reputation and my looks, so how else were you to react to my persistent bothers?”

Gladio saw Ignis’s wandering eyes at his tattoos as he babbled on.

“These tattoos, they’re of a hawk; a mythical animal. It’s a family tradition. It’s a lot of fill-in work right now. My father’s has been done for years. Gramps had the same one. Sort of the Amicitia family crest, I guess, handed down for, well, my, uh, cousin says centuries.”

“The left hand of the king’s right hand,” Ignis said, going to adjust glasses that weren’t there. He pushed his bangs out of his eyes when he realized. “You wear that shield to serve the Family, don’t you?”

Ignis had an unreadable expression on his face. He didn’t look mad. But he looked _thoughtful_. A bit transfixed. And it wasn’t for checking him out. He offered him a grim look. “Something like that must weigh heavy on you.”

Ignis composed himself, offering a chuckle. “Robot or not, I have an amazing ability to make calculated moves. I realize I might have come up with a wrong answer. I didn’t mean to mock you by continuing to send out drinks for you. You don’t have to stay away, you know. Unless I’ve offended you.” He pressed his hands together. “I know you get thirsty, though.”

“Thirsty for you, but your juice will suffice. You didn’t have to, by the way.” Gladio winked. He knew he sounded like a dumbass in love, but he couldn’t help it. Ignis set him up.

He thought about Ignis and their burdens. It would seem Ignis was fishing. It was strange, when he had been less receptive to getting involved with him before. Let alone even having a normal conversation, which the stern man seemed allergic to.

“You’re quite observant,” Gladio noted. “It certainly is a weight to bear, especially when it comes to my future plans, but for now, looking after Noctis isn’t a bad second job. I’m afraid for him, more than myself. He is not privy to the workings of his father’s position, or that of any of his associates, really. Mr. Lucis Caelum wants him protected and to live as normal of a life he can, but that isn’t realistic when everybody knows his name. In some ways, I don’t get pegged as much as he does, at least when I’m wearing a long sleeve shirt,” Gladio laughed. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. You can’t possibly want to know about my business.”

Ignis opened his mouth to respond, but pressed his lips together, looking properly amused but refusing to dignify the flirting. He slid away from the counter, as if he was leaving, but started looking at the surfing wax. “And what are your plans?”

He ran his hands over some of the hats, picking up a particularly gaudy neon one and examining it like it was important to him. “I guess it depends on which side of your business we’re talking about,” Ignis spoke clearly, but carefully. “I guess it also depends which side of that counter I’m on.”

Ignis made his way to the keychains. They were surfboards airbrushed with sunsets. He found the one Sol wanted. He went over and set it down. “You know, it’s not easy to be on the job and have someone paying attention to you. You don’t know if they’re going to cause problems for you. Tell your bosses about their history. Just last night, I had to tell Noctis that when a guy starts making dirty jokes, he doesn’t have to humor him. Yet I know that’s because I’m there to back him up. When I’m alone, I’m alone. I don’t know what’s going to happen. Maybe only a bad review. It could be a ridiculous complaint to my boss. I’m lucky Ulric is a pretty reasonable guy. But people get violent. Especially on that shift. I really think it’s an odd choice Mr. Lucis Caelum has made for his son.” Ignis looked at Gladio significantly, but without explanation.

He looked down, starting to count out change. “I don’t see how it’s possible to have a future with such a mark on your back.”

“My plan was to marry you,” Gladio blurted out. “Stupid, I know. From my perspective, let’s look at this way: both of us are in deep. You’re unable to escape your past anymore than I can my inevitable future. So we walk on with grace, with a few stumbles along the way, of course.”

Gladio didn’t know why all of this was tumbling out of his mouth. Ignis was already annoyed and done with him, why tell him this? He had not planned to make a fool of himself, but Ignis always managed to catch him unguarded with his veiled put-downs.

“You talk as though I’m some dangerous customer harassing you, and I’ll admit, maybe it would seem that way in the beginning. The persistence of my continued business of a damn fine juice bar in the late hours. It’s kind of weird once you point that out. But let it be known, whatever you think you know of me, I had no other intention than getting juice and giving small chat to the clerk. It’s just the kind of guy I am, regardless of whether I’m checking you out or not. I like people, but they don’t seem to like what they think of me, or my name. Oh well. Can’t force people to see me differently.”

Gladio took Ignis’s change. He noted it all coins. All ¥800 of it, counted out carefully in small face value. It wasn’t uncommon to get all singles, but usually when the customer was a stripper, a panhandling hobo, or even a taxi driver. Of course waiters got tips, too, but Ignis worked two jobs. He decided not to press his luck and joke. He already scared him off by now.

“It’s nice of you to get the girl a keychain. She’ll like it. See you around,” Gladio said, resigned. “If nothing more than for Noct. Until fall, when he goes to university.”

Ignis didn’t mean to laugh, but it was hard not to. It was a chuckle that turned into a snort and giggle. “Marry me, Gladio? Are you ready to make all the decorative decisions since it’s hard to be efficient and stylish?” He tilted his head. Ignis really was amused, and not in a cruel way. “You know I don’t really favor colors,” he reminded him. He tilted his head, giving Gladio a soft look. Ignis couldn’t help it. He ran his fingers over Gladio’s well-muscled arm. He splayed his fingers out, tracing over the outlined feathers that hadn’t been shaded yet.

“It’s not just feathers here. You wear your heart on your sleeve. That must be a pretty big burden, too.”

Ignis brought his other hand up, going right to stroking Gladio’s hair back and closing around the back of his head. He watched him for another moment, his smile soft and his eyes teasing. He leaned across the counter, pulling him into a kiss.

He held him into the kiss, but Gladio kissed back enthusiastically. They gripped at each other. The kiss was different. It was a bit aggressive on Ignis’s part. He didn’t stop until Gladio was breathless. He pulled back, a smile still playing on his lips and eyes blazing. Ignis went and kissed the corner of his mouth and worked his way up along his cheek before lifting to whisper in his ear, “I wasn’t scared of the burly customer. You’re a dime a dozen. I was scared of the Lucis Caelum.”

Ignis pulled back, eyes narrowed. “And I’m scared that you think it shouldn’t matter, when it very much does. I don’t wear my mark on my skin, Amicitia. But I, too, carry a burden in the name of family.” His hand stayed on Gladiolus’s arm.

Gladio, dazed from the kiss, listened to Ignis. Somehow, all the built-in resentment dissipated. “It’d help if you sorted out your issues with your father. I have an idea what kind of man Custos is. I don’t run into him much personally, but his reputation precedes him. I’m not scared of that punk. Okay, maybe a little, but what’s life without risk?” Gladio thought about Ignis. “I know my word’s no good to you, but nothing your father does can be held over your head, as long as I’m around to have a say.”

Gladio came over to put a reassuring hand over Ignis’s shoulder before holding him close and locking lips with him again. He pulled away to look at him.

“If you’re honest about staying away from his business, I won’t suck you into it, and I have no interest in sucking up to him, either.”

Ignis stared at him. “Are you brave or just stupid?” He rolled his shoulder, turning from Gladio. “I played, Gladiolus. I played that we could ever be anything and we could ignore our pasts and this is how you play me. You throw your false bravado or your misplaced assumptions in my face like...” He turned to look at him. He wasn’t just angry. He was hurt. “Brave young Amicitia! He’ll rescue me!” Ignis slammed his palm into Gladio’s chest. “Do you even know why my uncle is in this business? Yes, _uncle_ , Gladiolus! He got the nickname because of _me_!”

His hand made a ghostly movement, reaching for something, but stopping and closing his hand into a fist. He was shaking. “No. I don’t owe you anything, least of all an explanation. Keep thinking of yourself as a hero, Gladiolus, but I am nothing of a damsel! If I’m in any sort of mess, you and your kind are the start of it. Go ask your father who my father is, if you’re so damn interested.”

Without another look at him, Ignis stormed off, leaving the keychain and his change behind.

Gladio looked after him in shock, before slamming his fist into a display. _Damnit, kissed and ditched. Again._

**Author's Note:**

> Will be updating Thursdays.


End file.
